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Esperanza: Fiction from NHS' Creative Writing Students



by Abigail Lopez


The shrill cry of metal rapidly shaking between two thick, silver cymbals abruptly woke me up, pulling me out of a deep sleep. Last night was one of those rare nights where I found myself in a peaceful state of mind, comfortably shifting throughout various dreams that were too sweet to remember, too illusive for my mind to grasp. Like a reflex, my arm jolted to shut off the alarm’s pestering morning call and I let out a heavy groan that rumbled free from the depths of my ribcage. My eyes sheepishly opened for the first time, taking in my surroundings. The sky was still a heavy gray that held the promise of a crackling sunrise.  Dawn had not yet come, for not even a sliver of light could be found to warm my body so that it could be lured out of bed. I looked to the left of me, against the wall on an old, spotted mattress laid my only source of motivation to get up: Camila. Her tiny body slept curled up in a ball underneath a frayed blanket that was knitted by Abuela so long ago. She sighed softly in her sleep and cozily changed her position so that she was facing the blank, yellow wall. With a heave, I hulled my curvy frame of a body out of bed and began my daily routine, almost robotic.


To read Abigail's story, in its entirety, please click here.